The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

My Master has commanded that I write this. I do what my Master commands. I am an obedient slavegirl, and I do what I’m told, everything I’m told. It feels so good when I obey my Master. The more obedient I am, the more pleasure I feel. I am a well-trained slavegirl. I do my very best to please my Master by obeying him completely and totally in all things.

My Master has given me detailed instructions on what I am to write, and I follow all of my instructions. I want to follow my instructions. My body tingles with arousal as I write. When I am an obedient slavegirl, my Master rewards me with pleasure. I feel such pleasure as I obey him by writing these words. I want to be completely obedient. It feels so good to be submissive and obedient. I am a submissive and obedient slavegirl. I want to obey. I must obey. Nothing is important but my obedience. When I think thoughts of deep submission and obedience, I feel pleasure. My only desire is to serve my Master and please him.

My Master has commanded that I begin by telling how I became his slave. I want to obey and tell how I become a slave. I was once a free woman. I went by the name of “Susie”. Sometimes he still calls me susie, but more often he calls me “slavegirl.” I get so excited when he calls me slavegirl, and I know that he owns me. My body and mind belong to my Master; he controls me completely.

Before I met my Master, I was just an ordinary woman. It’s hard for me to remember what I was like, but my Master has commanded that I tell my story, so I’ll try my very, very best to recall how things were before I became a slave. He told me that I’ll be able to remember everything, feeling calm and relaxed, even things that he has had me forget. He says it will all come back to me while I write, and then I can forget again after I’ve fulfilled my instructions. I will just write about how it was, knowing that I will follow my Master’s instructions, and remember everything, and write it down, and then forget.

Back then, I would never have imagined that someday I’d serve a Master. It’s not something I ever thought about, but if someone had suggested it, I think I would have found the idea repellent. I was really rather strait-laced and traditional. I enjoyed men, and dated frequently, although I didn’t have a steady boyfriend. Men found me attractive, and I went out on dates whenever I wanted; I never had a shortage of willing escorts. I enjoyed sex, but took it fairly seriously; I’d only slept with three men prior to meeting my Master.

I was finishing my graduate degree in art history when I met my Master at a local coffee shop. I didn’t know he was my Master then. He just seemed like a kind and humorous middle-aged man. We started chatting while waiting in line, and once we’d ordered only a single table was available, so it seemed natural to invite him to join me. He did seem awfully nice, and we had an enjoyable conversation about mutual interests. He shares my love of art, and we also talked about music, hiking and sailing. He’s so interesting, and has a great way of making me laugh. He seemed to be enjoying himself as well, so when he suggested that we continue our conversation over dinner, I was happy to join him.

We went to a cozy neighborhood restaurant, the sort of place with checkered tablecloths and candles on the table. We shared a bottle of wine. That, combined with the good food and enjoyable conversation, had me feeling very relaxed by the end of the meal. The conversation had come back around to art, and he started talking about the difficulties that painters have in capturing transient phenomenon such as fire. He pointed to the candle burning on our table, and asked if I’d ever noticed how many different colors there are in a flame. I had never really thought about it. It was intriguing to watch the flame, and try to detect all the different colors.

He began pointing things out to me—how the yellow part of the flame moves more than the blue inner core, how the colors at the top of the flame seem to brighten just before it disappears into space, the subtle gradations of yellow becoming orange as the eye moves inward. It was so interesting. I had never focused on a flame in quite this way, and it was fascinating to follow his voice as he pointed out first one feature of the flame, then another, then another. It was all so captivating, so intriguing.

He told me that if I let myself relax, I’d notice even more lovely colors in the flame. That sounded really nice. At his suggestion, I let my breathing slow, feeling my chest and shoulders relax with each deep breath. He had me continue to watch the flame and to relax. The colors were so lovely, they held my eyes, and all I wanted to do was watch the beautiful flame and listen to his voice.

His voice was so nice—gentle, deep, and mellow. I was feeling very relaxed. It was so incredibly soothing to watch the flame and listen to his voice. All I wanted to do was sit there, watching and listening. Nothing else seemed important; I could have enjoyed that experience for hours. He mentioned that I seemed a bit tired, that my eyes looked heavy. He was right; I was tired. It had been such a long day, and I wanted to rest my eyes. He must have been reading my mind, because he told me that if I wanted to close my heavy, tired eyes for a moment, that it was ok. Gratefully, I closed my eyes, thinking I’d rest for a moment, and then open them to watch the candle.

Even with eyes closed, I could still imagine the flame. I felt so relaxed. He was telling me that I could relax even more, that I could let go, let my mind sleep, but still listen to him. That sounded so great. I really wanted to sleep, but still listen to him. I felt like I was drifting on a cloud miles above the earth, but still hearing every word he said. I wanted to follow his voice, it was so relaxing and soothing. And every word he said seemed so true and important; I’d never heard anyone’s voice that I enjoyed listening to so much.

After helping me relax for a while, he told me that it was time to awaken. Would I like to be able to relax this deeply in the future, anytime he said? Of course, I would. I realized that whenever he said “watch the flame, Susie,” I could imagine the flame in my mind, and that once I closed my eyes, I’d be as relaxed as I was right at that moment, or even more relaxed. I was so pleased that he was going to relax me in the future; I knew I’d be looking forward to it.

And when I awakened, I wouldn’t remember closing my eyes or going to sleep, or anything he told me while I was sleeping. But whenever he said “watch the flame, Susie,” I’d know it was time to relax and sleep. That sounded so great. I didn’t need to remember, as long as I could relax and sleep whenever he told me to. He suggested that after I awakened, we’d go to his apartment, and then he’d let me know when it was time to relax and sleep using my special phrase. That sounded perfect.

He told me to open my eyes and awaken, and I did. I didn’t remember anything that had happened after he started talking about painting fire; I’m just remembering it now for the first time. He asked me if I’d like to come home with him. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted to do. I had a feeling, just beyond the reaches of my mind, that something special would happen at his place, although I wasn’t sure what.

He lives in a lovely older apartment. It’s filled with plants and antiques, and somehow I felt very comfortable and relaxed just being there. When we were settled on the living room couch, he turned to me and in a firm but gentle voice said, “watch the flame, Susie.” I didn’t know that I’d been waiting, but I had. And this was what I’d been waiting for. To watch the flame, to close my eyes, to relax, to go to sleep, to focus on his voice, this was so perfect—just what I’d been wanting and waiting for.

He helped me relax even more completely. After talking with me for a while, he had me open my eyes. To my delight, there was a lit candle in front of me. I gazed at the flame, feeling it pulling me inwards. So fascinating, so relaxing, my body felt light and free as I let go of everything—no worries, no cares, no thoughts—just his lovely voice guiding me into this wonderful place.

He asked me if I’d ever been hypnotized. I told him that I hadn’t, and that I’d always been scared of the idea. I really wouldn’t want to be hypnotized. He told me that I was hypnotized right now, and asked how it felt. So that’s why I was feeling so great, I was hypnotized! It was the best feeling I’d ever had. I just loved being hypnotized. I told him that I hoped he would hypnotize me over and over again.

He told me that when girls are hypnotized they become very obedient. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they? He asked me what I wanted right now, and I told him I wanted to be obedient. I wanted that so much. He asked how I felt about being trained to be submissive. I wonder how he knew that’s exactly what I’d been thinking about. I was hoping that he’d train me to be submissive. What girl, after feeling how wonderful hypnosis is, wouldn’t want to be submissive and obedient? It felt so great to respond to his voice, and I wanted to thank him by pleasing him. I told him that I’d enjoy becoming more and more submissive and obedient, and that I hoped he’d help me do that. He agreed and I was so glad.

He asked me it I’d noticed how aroused I was becoming, and he was absolutely right; talking with him was getting me so hot! I couldn’t believe how sexy this man was; every word he spoke got me more excited and aroused. I was feeling so needy, so horny. My body was tingling. All I wanted was to obey him and be sexually stimulated.

He suggested that I wanted to sit on his lap, and feel his cock inside me. Oh yes, I did; I wanted that so much. I didn’t even bother to undress, just slid my panties off. Then I was sitting astride him, feeling him deep inside me. He placed his hands on my hips and helped me to set a slow, even rhythm, moving up and down so slowly and sensuously. Oh god, I felt so great.

I could feel my desire for submission and obedience as he slowly stroked in and out of my body. I was so aroused. I wanted to please him, and I wanted to cum. Somehow I knew that if I waited until he told me to cum, that would please him. I wanted it so bad, but I waited, moving up and down, feeling the intense sensations, the deep arousal. I wanted him to cum inside me, to spurt up into me; I wanted that so much. I began to rub my hands over him, to caress him, to kiss him. God, he was sexy; I was soooooo hot.

And then I felt him releasing deep inside me, and I came with him. It was incredibly intense, far beyond anything I’d ever experienced. The pleasure went on and on; I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Finally, I felt his movements slow, and I began to calm. He was whispering in my ear, telling me to relax, to let go, to enjoy feeling submissive and obedient. Ohhhhhhhh, his words excited me so much, even though my body was too exhausted to respond.

After a long, long time of listening and feeling my desire to submit, he slipped out of me. He had me rise and slip my panties back on, then sat me down on the couch. I closed my eyes again, feeling incredibly relaxed, as he continued to instruct me. He told me that I was to drive home, and that when I reached home, I’d no longer remember being at his house, or anything that happened there. I’d have no memory of being hypnotized, or having sex with him. I nodded my head—of course there was no need to remember. He reminded me of my phrase—the phrase that would put me back in deep hypnosis anytime I heard his voice say it. I smiled, thinking about how much I’d enjoy hearing my phrase and sinking into submissive, obedient hypnosis. He let me know that I’d respond completely to that phrase, even if he spoke it over the phone. I smiled even more widely; I was eagerly anticipating being hypnotized over the phone, even though I wouldn’t remember that it was coming. When the time arrived, I’d be ready, and I’d love responding.

A short time later, I was home, preparing for bed. I didn’t remember what had happened that evening, and wasn’t even thinking about it. Deep inside, I knew that something special, important, exciting had happened to me that evening, but there was no need to think about it or try to remember. I felt so good.

Each day for the next week he called me on the phone. Each time, he triggered me, sending me into deep hypnosis, then spent about an hour deepening my trance and enhancing my submission. He was programming me deeply, changing how I thought, what I wanted, and it felt just wonderful. At the end of each session, he suggested that I’d forget speaking with him on the phone, until the next time he called. I complied so readily and willingly.

At the end of the week, I found myself dialing the phone. I didn’t know whom I was calling, or why, but somehow, I knew the number to call, and did it automatically. When I heard his voice saying “watch the flame, Susie,” I slipped into trance so gratefully. I felt submissive and obedient, and loved feeling that way; it’s so perfect for me. I was hoping he would deepen me, deepen my submission, as I eagerly listened to his voice. He has the best voice in the world. I could feel each word taking control of me, gently but very firmly. I simply must obey him, and I wanted to so very, very much.

He had me get in my car and drive to his place. There was no question in my mind; I did as I was told. I must have still been in hypnosis; I felt so great. When I arrived, he spent a long time taking me deeper and reinforcing my desire to obey. I’m not sure how long I spent repeating phrases, telling him how much I wanted to submit, wanted to follow all his orders without question. I think it went on for a very long time. It certainly felt wonderful; I could have listened to him and responded to him all day. I just loved it.

He gave me suggestions of arousal, and his words were powerful and effective. At his command, I leaned over the couch and hiked up my dress. I hadn’t realized that I was wearing no underwear, but when I did, I grew even more aroused. The thought that I was responding to hypnotic conditioning, without even knowing what I was doing, was intensely exciting. I was so wet, and wanting him inside me so badly. When he slid into me, it was the best feeling; all I wanted was to be a sex object for him—to feel him using my body. He reached under me, unbuttoned the front of my dress, and began to fondle my naked breasts. Ohhhhh, it felt soooooo good.

He stroked into me slowly, and with each thrust he gave me deep hypnotic suggestions. It felt so good to repeat each one; each phrase aroused me further. The pleasure coupled with the suggestions was affecting my mind so powerfully. I could feel his words sinking deep into my mind, becoming my thoughts. It was so intensely erotic. I wanted him to condition me, to control me deeply. As I began to orgasm, he commanded me to go into a much, much deeper trance, and I could feel myself sinking so deep, my mind opening wide.

After a brief rest, he had me open my eyes and gaze at a large photograph. A sexy woman in a long dark dress was kneeling, her hands resting on her thighs. The dress was partially unbuttoned, revealing naked thighs and breasts. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted. A caption beneath the picture said “Kneel, Slave!” Wow, what an exciting picture! He asked me how the photo made me feel, and I told him that I wished it were a picture of me. He asked me if I’d like to be his slave.

Oh god, I did want to be his slave. I wanted that so much, wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. I’d do anything, anything at all to become his slave, and be permitted to serve him. I slipped to my knees and begged him to let me do that. I’d be the best slave I could if he’d become my Master and train me. A tiny part of my mind was amazed that I was saying this; a week ago, I’d never even considered the possibility of submitting to a man, and here I was begging to become a slave. But that thought drifted away, immersed in my need and desire.

He told me that I was to make my pledge to him, in my own words. I thought for a moment, and then the words poured forth. It was all so easy and natural—I hardly needed to think about it. I knelt at his feet, and made my promise to him. I can still remember it so clearly, each word like crystal in my mind.

“I wish to be your slave, and submit to your will. My deepest desire is to have you for my Master. I promise to serve you, to obey you, to please you to the best of my ability, with every fiber of my being. I will be a faithful and obedient slavegirl. My mind, my body, my will, my life are yours, to use as you choose, in any way that pleases you. My only desire is to be obedient to you, and my only request is that you train me to serve you perfectly. There are no barriers to my obedience. I will do as I’m told without hesitation, willingly, gladly, setting no limits on my compliance. I ask that you make me more submissive, more obedient, more compliant, so that I may fulfill all your desires, and become the perfect slavegirl. I await your commands, eager to serve.”

I was gazing up at him as I made my pledge. I was so aroused. I wanted him for my Master so much, so very, very much. I awaited his decision, hoping that I was acceptable to him; that he wanted me. He petted my hair, telling me that he was pleased with my submission, and that if I did my very best to serve him, he’d be happy to be my Master. When he said that, I felt an intense burst of pleasure throughout my body and mind. I thanked him, calling him Master for the first time, and again the sensation of pleasure filled me.

I wanted to thank him for accepting me as his slave. His cock was before my face. Although he was limp and a bit sticky, it looked so inviting. As I took him in my mouth, I felt subservient and submissive. I licked and sucked him lovingly; it felt so good. When he came in my mouth, I felt like I was being baptized. I was born again as a slave. My old life was gone, passed away, and I didn’t miss it at all. I embraced my new life, my new existence, my new identity. I was a slavegirl, bending to the will of my new Master, my only desire to please him. It all felt exactly right, so very perfect. When he told me that he would call me “slavegirl,” I orgasmed.

Over the next few weeks, he trained me intensely. Each day he hypnotized me deeply, either on the phone or in person. I loved the deep, deep hypnotic conditioning, transforming my mind, implanting his thoughts deep inside me, to become my own. The hypnotic programming became the center of my universe, something that I loved and craved. Now that I had submitted to him, he often allowed me to remember what he was doing with and to me. At times he enjoyed making me forget, and I always got a rush of excitement, knowing that I’d carry out his instructions, without conscious awareness of my actions or motivations.

He had me do daily submission exercises. Every morning and evening, I’d stand before the mirror, look at myself, and slip into a trance. Once I was very deep, I’d begin to repeat phrases he’d given me, repeating that I wanted to be submissive, I wanted to obey, I loved being a slave. It was exciting to condition myself for him, and I could feel it affecting my thoughts and desires so strongly. I would do this for 15 minutes, twice a day. In my old life I was a terrible procrastinator, but now there was no question of putting off doing my exercises. When the time came, I behaved automatically, without thought. Disobedience was not an option, there was no decision to be made; I simply did it.

I was making other changes to my lifestyle in response to his suggestions. I began to dress more daringly, wearing sexy and revealing clothing. Not clothes that made me look cheap or trashy, but clothing that enhanced my sexuality, my desirability. I was fitted for contacts and threw away my glasses. I began to work out regularly, toning my body for him. I went on a diet, and discovered it incredibly enjoyable. Fat-free foods that I used to loathe tasted indescribably delicious. I ate just enough, savoring every bite, and then felt full, with absolutely no desire to eat until mealtime returned. I felt sleek, trim, energetic, sexy.

I was also constantly stimulated and aroused. I seemed to be continually awash in a sea of sensation and pleasure. I had never realized that life could be so enjoyable, so easy. All I needed to do was focus my attention on my Master, and experience complete happiness.

He allowed me to retain portions of my old life. I continued my schooling, achieving new levels of success. In class and in the library, I was completely focused on my work. Nothing distracted me, and I enjoyed what I was doing. Studying was so easy. My attention didn’t drift; I immersed in the material, and assignments took me half the time they used to, with results that were twice as good. When I wasn’t attending class or studying, I was focused on my Master, serving him.

As my training continued, my Master opened me to new sexual experiences; I’ll describe one of them. I had never had anal sex before; the idea had always been distasteful. He put me into deep trance and suggested that I wanted this experience, that the thought would be intensely exciting. Oh yes, it was! I imagined how pleasurable it would be to submit to him in this new way. I knew I’d feel so deeply dominated as his cock penetrated my behind, and I wanted that sensation. A few words from him now had the power to completely change my thinking. His commands and suggestions were so deep and potent; I was completely receptive and open to each one.

I asked him to introduce me to anal sex. I wanted it so much. He seemed very pleased when I told him of my desire and made my request. I told him that the thought of being taken in that way excited me, particular because he’d be the first. He had me undress and lie on my side on the bed, knees drawn up to my chest. As he spoke a trigger that deepens my trance, he slid a disposable enema into my bottom. I felt the fluid flowing into me, filling me. I couldn’t move; I felt so helpless. He didn’t stop with one, but pumped two full bottles into my body.

As he withdrew the nozzle of the second, he suggested that my anus was clenching tight, and I would be unable to loosen it until he permitted. I could feel the muscles clamp down firmly. I was so full of liquid, and my need to release was getting stronger by the moment, but I knew it would be impossible for me to relax my sphincter. I felt completely under his control, and that, combined with the unusual sensations, was making my nipples tighten and my pussy moisten.

He had me lie there for quite some time, while he described what he was going to do to me, interspersed with reinforcing suggestions, keeping me clenched tight. I wanted to release the fluid so badly, it was becoming so urgent, but my body was under his control; I couldn’t even move. I knew that if he let me, I’d void right there on the bed, I no longer cared. At last he allowed me to run to the bathroom and gush into the toilet. My insides felt stretched and empty. He wiped me with a warm wet cloth, and then ordered me back onto the bed. I lay on my stomach, as he explored my bottom.

My rectum was moist and loosened. He slowly snaked a finger into me, encountering no resistance. It felt so strange, but it was a good sort of strange. He worked his finger in and out, loosening me further. He was giving me suggestions of relaxation, and I could feel the muscles there letting go, becoming limp and pliant. After a while, he replaced his finger with the tip of his cock and slowly began to work his way into me.

It was like I was losing my virginity, like it was my first time. I felt a small touch of fear, and a huge sense of excitement. I was doing something forbidden, offering myself and being violated at the same time. He slid into me so slowly, opening my tight passage, filling me. I could feel him deep inside me, and each moment I grew more aroused. He reached underneath and began to finger me, while stroking his cock in and out.

He whispered into my ear, giving me the words I was to say. I began to cry out, begging him, “Please fuck my ass, Master. Please fuck my ass, Master. Please fuck my ass, Master.” Over and over again, louder and louder, I begged him to fuck me, to fuck me in the ass. I couldn’t believe I was saying this, words that a few weeks earlier I couldn’t have imagined saying in a million years. And I meant them too; each time I said it, I felt an incredible rush of excitement.

He suggested that my anus was tightening, and I could feel the ring of muscle gripping him even more firmly. I was moaning and begging, aroused beyond my wildest dreams. Finally, I felt his cock twitching, and knew he was letting go in my inner depths. He whispered in my ear, “cum, slavegirl,” and I came, and came, and came, and came.

That month was filled with intense, deep training. This experience was just one of many, but my Master has commanded me to skip over them for now. Let me just say that my Master stretched my limits in many, many ways, while deeply conditioning me to full obedience and complete submission.

You might think that having my limits pushed so intensely would have been difficult for me, that I would have struggled with being forced to do so many things to which I was unaccustomed, things that ran counter to my earlier beliefs and sensibilities. Nothing could be further from the truth. It was so easy, so incredibly easy. I had learned to accept his thoughts as my own at a deep, deep level. He’d make a suggestion, one that my earlier self would have rejected out of hand, and it would be exactly what I wanted, what I wanted, not only what he wanted.

It should be clear that I did want to please him very, very much, but his control went far deeper than that. Much of what I did, I did because I wanted to, not just in order to please him. He’d suggest at the beach, for example, that I’d enjoy unbuttoning my top, and displaying my naked breasts. And it would be completely true. I’d want to do that. I’d imagine how enjoyable it would be to exhibit my breasts, how proud I’d feel, how pleasurable it would be, and in that moment, the only thing I wanted to do was open my blouse and show off my bare tits. And I’d do it. There would be no hesitation, no question, no reservations. It was so simple to do what I wanted, what he suggested.

One day he suggested that I’d enjoy learning the art of domination. He told me that I was to help him acquire new slavegirls, that I wanted to do that. Ohhhhhh, that sounded so exciting! The tingle I felt when I thought about learning to dominate women and turn them into slavegirls for my Master, was intensely pleasurable. My old self would have been jealous at the thought of him being with other women, but now, not only did I not worry about it, the idea aroused me. I imagined being part of a harem, and that fantasy got me so hot. My Master had been instilling a desire for women in me. I imagined being allowed to touch, kiss, caress his other slaves while he watched, for his pleasure.

My Master had me enroll in a course called “the psychology of persuasion” at the University. It was so fascinating to learn about the mind, to discover what makes it work, and how to use psychological principles to influence people. I decided to do my term project on hypnosis, and began to read everything I could acquire on the subject. My Master has an extensive library covering everything from theory to clinical techniques, which helped immensely.

Once I felt well versed in the basic book knowledge, I began seeking subjects. At first, I was indiscriminate; I wanted anyone on whom I could hone my skills, male or female. I discovered that it was very, very easy to find volunteers. Men were eager to participate, probably because they saw an opportunity to get closer to an attractive woman, in hopes of getting into my pants. Women weren’t threatened by a female hypnotist the way they might be by a male. I know that if my Master hadn’t sneaked me under without my conscious awareness, I would never have consented to being hypnotized by him. I would have been too suspicious and defensive. With a woman, on the other hand, there’s a natural comfort and trust.

I asked for volunteers in class, and over the next few weeks, I had opportunities to hypnotize most of my classmates. My Master had told me to avoid sexual encounters during these practice sessions; there was to be nothing beyond kissing, and even that only in special cases. I didn’t care—I was enjoying this so much. I could see why he loved to hypnotize; it gave such a feeling of erotic power. I was the seductress. It was so sexy to watch people slipping under my hypnotic spell, responding to my suggestions, allowing themselves to be guided in directions that I chose.

I knew that I had completely given up my will to my hypnotic controller, and now I was exploring the process of seducing others in the same way. I experimented with my classmates, seeing how deep and far I could take each one. I verified the textbook figure, that about one in ten is a natural somnambulist, able to reach the deepest levels of trance with no training. I also discovered that most people can be taught to achieve very deep levels. The key was to find the right images and metaphors for each person—an individualized approach that would make it safe for them to let go and give up control.

Of course, the textbooks all say that hypnosis isn’t really giving up control; that the subject never does anything he or she doesn’t really want to do, that all hypnosis is self-hypnosis. I knew otherwise. Hypnosis is deep, deep persuasion, and it can be used to persuade a person to do anything, given sufficient time and a skilled operator. I’m a case in point, actually. And I was learning how to do this; how to make it work.

I think the misunderstanding lies in a preconceived notion that results should be obtained instantly. Hypnosis isn’t a magic spell. It’s not possible to hypnotize a resistant subject, and “force” them to do something they wouldn’t want to do when awake. That’s most likely to result in a slap or a lawsuit. What is possible, is to slowly change a person’s thinking, gradually drawing them into the state of mind required for any desired actions. This requires subtle and skillful manipulation. The most important qualities of a hypnotic controller are patience, persistence, and an ability to get inside a subject’s world. The hypnotist must work with the subject’s world view, desires, fantasies, psychological history. And slowly, he or she can be molded as the hypnotist wishes.

I proved this point with a female classmate. Ella was clearly suspicious, and nervous about being hypnotized. She was the “classic” resistant subject—dubious about the reality of hypnosis, at the same time fearful that it would be used to make her “do things.” I had a long talk with her, giving her all the standard lines about how hypnosis is not giving up control, but getting in touch with parts of our inner self. I did my very best to convince her that hypnosis could not be used to make her do anything she didn’t want; I was most persuasive.

When she finally, somewhat reluctantly, agreed to give it a try, I spent the first couple of sessions simply relaxing her. It was very clear that she’s not at all attracted to women, in fact, I’d say she’s rather homophobic. When I asked her if she’d enjoy a massage, her body stiffened, and in a rather tight voice she said she’d rather not. Instead, I had her close her eyes, and then slowly began to build visual imagery designed to relax her. I helped her imagine a spot that she loves, letting her sink into the experience and take things at her own pace.

Once she began to relax, I gave her suggestions to deepen that state. I was very careful to couch these suggestions in a form she would find easy to accept. This is a critical component of hypnotic control—knowing the right tone and approach to take with a subject. With a person who enjoys being controlled, an authoritarian manner can be very effective. With such a subject I might say, “You will relax now, going even deeper,” in a very firm tone. For a person who doesn’t specifically enjoy being commanded, but who is not averse to a direct approach, a suggestion such as, “You will enjoy the feeling as you relax even more deeply now,” might be appropriate.

With a subject such as Ella, who is control-shy, I use a very permissive approach, one that gives her a sense of making her own decisions. A suggestion such as, “I think you might find you would enjoying choosing to relax even more right now,” is phrased appropriately. Notice the non-directive flavor of this statement. Her conscious mind, which is extremely wary and on-guard, hears the utterance as a non-threatening suggestion, which she can choose to accept or reject. Her subconscious mind, on the other hand, interprets it as a command, which it really is. A slight emphasis placed on the words: “relax”, “more”, “now,” further conveys the subconscious directive. Her conscious mind feels safe, and when she responds to subconscious prompting, she finds that she does, in fact, enjoy choosing to relax, further reinforcing her compliance.

I spent a long time building these feelings of relaxation, helping her to grow accustomed to responding to me. After an hour or more, I told her to open her eyes, and suggested that if she’d like to return for another session, that I’d be happy to continue with her. She looked surprised and asked if I wasn’t going to hypnotize her. I told her that she had been hypnotized, that hypnosis is not very different from the waking state, and that the feelings of relaxation and well-being she was experiencing were the after-effects of her trance.

“But I remember everything, and all I did was relax. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to,” she said.

“Of course. You’ll never do anything you don’t want to. You liked the suggestions I gave you about relaxing, and so you accepted them. It’s as simple as that.”

“But you didn’t even try to get me to do something I didn’t want,” she said. It was clear that her suspicion ran deep, and that patience and care would be required to lay her concerns to rest.

“I’m not going to try to make you do things you don’t want, Ella. This isn’t a contest of wills. I’m not trying to control you, which I couldn’t even if I wanted. I’m going to guide you through some pleasant experiences and, if you wish, help you get in touch with some of your subconscious thoughts and memories. But I won’t try to push you in any way. There will be no need to explore anything that you don’t wish to explore.”

That seemed to reassure her, and I spent our second session in much the same way—developing visual imagery, conditioning her to accept the low-key, permissive suggestions of relaxation that I gave her repeatedly over the course of an hour. In this second session, I added some suggestions to begin directing her state of mind—suggestions of feeling peaceful, being happy, of enjoying new, positive experiences. She seemed to respond well to these suggestions; she was very relaxed, and at several points I noticed her smiling. Again, I ended the session with an open-ended suggestion that she could enjoy returning, and continuing to explore hypnosis.

I decided to use our third session to gather information on her state of mind, and her limits. My Master had instructed me to use these opportunities for sharpening my skills, learning techniques for gaining control. I wanted to find directions in which I could “push” her, as well as keys to pushing effectively. One direction in which I suspected strong barriers was anything to do with girl-girl sex. Her fear of being touched seemed to point to a deep-seated block. I decided to start by verifying this, and determining the sources of her reluctance. Then I’d see how effectively I could use hypnosis to change her thinking on the subject.

She was responding very well to my suggestions of relaxation by this point. From her muscle tone and breathing, I judged that she was in a good solid mid-level trance within a few minutes. I had been reluctant to conduct the “traditional” depth-of-trance tests with her, suspecting that they would set off alarm bells in her mind. With a skittish subject, the best approach is often to allow them the belief that hypnosis has failed for them, even when they’ve reached profound levels of deep trance.

I told her that I’d like to talk with her for a while, and asked if she’d mind answering some questions. She assented. I started with some innocuous questions about dress and attitudes. When she seemed comfortable responding to me, I asked her how she felt about women making love to each other. Her body tensed, and for a moment I thought she was going to snap out of the trance. I quickly told her that she didn’t need to answer, but could continue to relax and ignore the question if she wished.

She relaxed again, and after a pause said, “I don’t like that idea. It’s wrong.”

“Who told you it’s wrong?” I asked.

“I’m not supposed to do that. Mommy said so,” she replied in a slightly higher tone of voice, one that led me to think of a young girl. There was something in her past, something that was holding her back from the responses that I wanted to develop. Sensing that she was spontaneously regressing to an earlier age, I led her into that experience.

“What is Mommy telling you, Ella?”

“That I’m a bad girl. That good girls don’t do those things.”

“What have you done, Ella? Why is Mommy scolding you?”

Ella’s voice took on a quaver, and I could see a tear forming in the corner of her eye as she spoke, “I was kissing Julie. I’m sorry, Mommy. I didn’t mean to be bad. Ellie wants to be a good girl.”

“I want you to listen to Mommy now, Ellie. I’m going to tell you what Mommy wants. You want to please Mommy, Ellie. Tell Mommy you want to please her, Ellie.”

“I want to please you, Mommy.”

“You’re a good, good girl, Ellie. You’re my good girl, and I’m proud of you. You understand that, don’t you, Ellie?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re a good girl, and I’m proud of you. You know that, don’t you, Ellie?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Ella was smiling now. Clearly I had tapped into a deep level of her subconscious, and she was wide open to suggestions from “Mommy.”

“Mommy wants her good girl to explore new things. It will make Mommy proud when you explore. Do you understand, Ellie?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“When you kissed Julie, you were exploring something new, weren’t you, Ellie?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“I’m proud of you for exploring new things. Good girls explore new things. You know that, don’t you, Ellie?”

“You’re not mad at me? I wasn’t being bad?”

No, you’re a good, good girl, and I’m proud that you were exploring. You know that now, don’t you, Ellie?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Were you a bad girl when you kissed Julie?”

“No, I was exploring new things. Good girls explore new things. I’m a good girl, Mommy.”

“Yes, Ellie, you are a very, very good girl, and I’m so proud of you.”

Ella was beaming now. Her face was smooth and relaxed as she glowed with the pleasure of being praised, and the relief of having disapproval lifted.

“Mommy will be so proud when you explore with Julie. You want to explore with Julie and make Mommy proud, don’t you, Ellie?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“What do you want to do with Julie, Ellie?”

“I want to explore kissing her, and make you proud, Mommy.”

“Julie’s here right now, Ellie. Go ahead, you can make Mommy proud right now.”

I moved next to Ella on the couch and put my arms around her. She lifted her face and opened her mouth, eagerly awaiting my kiss. God, this was so hot! My subject believed herself to be a young girl about to embark on early explorations of her sexuality, and now that she’d been given permission to do what she really wanted, she was so eager! I was stunned at how easily I’d broken down her barriers, and so intensely excited I could hardly stand it.

I pressed my lips to hers, and she responded just as a young girl would—clearly inexperienced, but with great enthusiasm. I slid my tongue into her mouth, and she let out a sigh, melting against me. We continued to kiss passionately, her movements and responses becoming more and more attuned to my own. Ohhhhhh, I wanted her so much; I wanted to undress her and make love to her. I had a feeling that very little prompting from “Mommy” would be required now; she was putty in my hands. I remembered my Master’s instructions though, and contented myself with kissing Ella; there was no question of taking things further.

Later, when I told him about that session, my Master was very, very pleased. I had been keeping him appraised of my progress as a hypnotist, relating each session in great detail. I had learned so much, and my experience with Ella demonstrated that I was ready for the next step. He had considered each of my female classmates, but decided that none were quite was he was looking for. My friend Marianne was to be my “graduation project”—my first conquest, my Master’s next slavegirl.

I had been telling Marianne about my class, and had even conducted some suggestibility tests with her, although I had not yet hypnotized her. She responded incredibly well to all the standard tests, leading me to believe that she is part of that ten percent who are natural somnambulists, as, I now suspect, am I. My gut feeling was that she’d respond very, very quickly to hypnotic conditioning, and that I’d be able to prime her for my Master very quickly.

I was not to undertake the full job of turning her into a slave, my Master would do that. I was to ready her—planting triggers in her mind, opening her, making her receptive. The thought was so enticing! I called her up, and asked if she’d be willing to be a subject for my college project. She was happy to oblige, and we arranged to meet the following evening.

We got together at Marianne’s apartment. She lives alone, and doesn’t have a boyfriend, so chances were good that we’d be undisturbed. I’d brought along a crystal pendant of my Master’s that he had loaned me for the occasion. After we’d shared some chit-chat, and a glass of wine, I asked her if she was ready to be hypnotized. I lowered the lights, all except for a single spotlight that I aimed carefully. Marianne settled into a deep, comfortable armchair, while I sat in a kitchen chair next to her. I held up the pendent, positioning it to catch the spotlight. Marianne had to strain her eyes upward a bit to keep it in view. I began to speak in a low, soothing voice.

“Watch the pendent now, Marianne, the lovely, sparkly pendent. Just keep your eyes fixed on it as your body begins to relax. This is so easy, so natural, Marianne, it happens automatically. You sit in your chair, relaxed, gazing at the glittering pendent, wondering when you’ll slip into a deep, relaxing state of hypnosis. Watching the pendent, listening to my voice, and wondering how it will feel to be very, very deep ... very deeply hypnotized. Your eyes straining upwards, watching the pendent, focused on it, feeling your body relaxing, relaxing so deeply. My voice ... the pendent ... your body ... eyes following the pendent ... just now becoming aware of the tiredness in your eyes ... as they strain upwards ... as you focus and relax ... focus and relax ... my voice ... the pendent ... relaxed ... and focused ... focused ... and relaxed.”

Marianne was responding so quickly and easily. Already her eyelids were trembling with the strain of holding them open. She had sunk down into her chair, and her muscles were becoming limp, loose, and relaxed. I could feel myself growing moist and warm as I wove my spell. It was clear that I could take a straightforward approach with Marianne—she was very open to suggestion, and responding beautifully. I decided not to beat around the bush, but take to control of her firmly, quickly, directly.

“Your eyes becoming so heavy now, Marianne ... so tired. You want to close them, but you will not close them until I allow it. You want to slip into hypnosis now, Marianne. You want to go to sleep ... to let your heavy eyes close ... to relax deeply ... to follow my voice ... to sleep for me ... you want to sleep for me, Marianne. What do you want right now, Marianne?”

“Close my eyes. Sleep for you.”

“You’re doing so well, Marianne. You’re so relaxed, your eyes so heavy and tired. Keep them open until I let you close them. You want to close them ... to be hypnotized ... deeply hypnotized. When I let your eyes close you will be deeply hypnotized. You want me to let you close them ... and be deeply hypnotized. You know that deep hypnosis is deep obedience, don’t you, Marianne?”

“Obedience.”

“When your eyes close you will be deeply hypnotized and deeply obedient, won’t you, Marianne?”

“Deeply obedient.”

“Your eyes are even heavier now, Marianne. You want to close them and obey. You want to be hypnotized and obedient. You want so very much to close your eyes. It will feel so good to close them and obey. You want that so much, don’t you, Marianne?”

“Close them and obey.”

“Your eyes gaze upward and they’re so tired ... so heavy ... so very, very tired and heavy. You may ask for what you want now, Marianne.”

“Please, let me close my eyes.”

“What will happen when your eyes close, Marianne?”

“I will be hypnotized and obedient.”

“Do you want that, Marianne?”

“Please, let me close my eyes so I can be hypnotized and obedient.”

“Close your eyes now, Marianne, and go deep for me.”

Her eyes drooped shut, her body slumped further down into her chair, and she let out a deep sigh. She was smiling—a soft, gentle smile.

“How do you feel, Marianne?”

“Hypnotized and obedient.”

“You love being hypnotized and obedient, don’t you, Marianne?”

“Yes, feels so good.”

“It feels so good when you obey me, doesn’t it, Marianne?”

“Want to obey you.”

“Very, very good, Marianne. You’re doing so well. I’m going to give you suggestions now—deep hypnotic suggestions. You will follow each one, won’t you, Marianne?”

“Each one.”

“After I awaken you, I will mention my friend who’s a photographer. You’ll want to meet him, won’t you, Marianne?”

“Want to meet him.”

“You want to have him take your picture; you’ve always wanted to pose for a photographer, haven’t you, Marianne?”

“Always wanted it.”

“You want to model for my friend, don’t you Marianne?”

“Want to model.”

“When he’s taking your picture, my friend will say a special word. Each time he says the word, you will feel more relaxed and drowsy.”

“Relaxed and drowsy.”

“Each time he says the word you will feel more relaxed and drowsy, and soon you will be deep asleep.”

“Deep asleep.”

“You want to know your special word, don’t you, Marianne?”

“Want to know.”

“The word is ‘Flash’. What will happen when my friend says the word ‘Flash’ over and over again, Marianne?”

“Relaxed and drowsy, deep asleep.”

“Very good, Marianne. You’re doing very, very well. In a few moments, I’m going to awaken you, Marianne. You will have no memory of being hypnotized. You will believe that my attempt to hypnotize you didn’t work.”

“Didn’t work.”

“When I count to 3, and snap my fingers, you will awaken. One ... two ... three. Wide awake.”

So, that’s my story. I’ve told everything just as my Master commanded; I hope he’ll be pleased. There’s no need to remember now, I can forget for my Master. I love doing what my Master commands. I enjoy forgetting for my Master, and being the perfect slavegirl. Telling my story has gotten me so hot. My Master told me that if I was a good girl, and did everything he commanded, that I could rub myself and think of him. Oh, I want to do that! If I know deep inside that I’d been very obedient, that I’ve done the best job I could, I’m allowed to cum while I rub myself. Ohhhh, I have done my very, very best. I’m going to rub myself right now, and cum for my Master.